


To Love Someone Forever

by Angstystan



Category: Naruto
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Danzo can rot in hell honestly, Gaara is a Good Friend (Naruto), Gen, Hatake Kakashi Is Trying, Nightmares, Original Character(s), Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Uchiha Sasuke, Random manipulation of canon for plot convenience, Sasuke has issues and deals with them, Sasuke is both good and bad at emotions, Shikamaru is so done, The stuffed cats are important, Uchiha Sasuke-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:15:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angstystan/pseuds/Angstystan
Summary: It takes Sasuke six years to understand peace, and it involves some soul searching, some vacation, some spy work, and some stuffed cats.Excerpt: "Because Sasuke’s nightmares travel the depths of every darkness he’s known, seen, and done, but they begin with a single blood-soaked night, and end with a single blood-soaked hand reaching out to touch his forehead."
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke, Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Sasuke, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nara Shikamaru/Temari, Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	1. Itachi

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic on AO3. I tried to keep it general, but you can read these as ships however you like.  
> I took wide liberties with the canon, so most things will probably not match.  
> I am also not Japanese, so disclaimer.  
> I don't own Naruto the series or its characters in any way, shape or form.  
> Also, trigger warning for mentions of abuse and trauma.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is everything and this is gentle, this is Itachi, his elder brother.

  
Sasuke is five, running after his brother. It’s raining. It rains often now. Itachi has a raincoat that he drapes over Sasuke too.

Itachi is warm. Itachi is always warm, even when it’s cold and the cold of the ground reaches Sasuke through the tatami and the futon. On those nights, Itachi lets him sleep with him, and the covers are warm, and Itachi smells safe and Sasuke has happy dreams.

They reach their house. Mother is going to make Oyakodon, Sasuke’s favourite. He wants to play with Itachi before that. Itachi hasn’t played with him for so long.

Sasuke toes off his shoes and lines them neatly in their place. Mother is already there with towels, but Itachi takes only one.

“I have training, Kaa-san.” Itachi says as he drapes the towel gently over Sasuke’s head, because he is kind like that, Sasuke’s brother.

“Ni-san! No fair! You said you were gonna play with me!” Sasuke knows he’s pouting. He doesn’t care. He misses playing with his brother.

Itachi smiles, gentle and a little sad, brings his hand up in a familiar gesture, touches his fingers to Sasuke’s forehead.

There is warmth and love and something familiar and Sasuke loves it, despite the words that always follow it, loves knowing that this is something theirs, that this is home, this is everything and this is gentle, this is Itachi, his elder brother.

“Forgive me, Sasuke, next time.”


	2. Sakura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thinks, where do I go?

It’s not the same.

  
Sasuke is seventeen. He spends months in isolation in prison, working through his rage, his grief, the crippling sense of loss. Trauma.

  
He’s unsure and lost, in a world where he is not sure there is a place for him, a world he cannot yet bring himself to love and yet cannot hate any longer. The hatred bled out of him in the Valley of the End, along with the resentment, the vengeance, the sense of purpose. He’s a lost kite, string cut, tumbling against a violent wind. He thinks, what is he to do now, he who devoted everything to his goal and nothing to himself? He thinks, what is he to believe now, when everything he thought he knew, everything he had clung to as gospels and anchors, had been proven false time and again, uprooted and ripped, leaving him bleeding on the ground?

He thinks, where do I go?

He thinks, who am I?

  
It cannot be Konoha. That thread that tethers him to this world, that singular focus his clan is famous for, it cannot be this village that has committed so many atrocities and yet never accepted the consequences. This village that destroyed Itachi, destroyed him, almost destroyed Naruto, this village cannot be his home, his place, his purpose.

  
Yet, he will protect it. Because Itachi died for it.

Because Kakashi, the only sensei he’s ever known, is here, is the Rokdaime Hokage.

Because Naruto, is here, and will always be here, will be Hokage someday, and not that he needs help, but Sasuke will see him change this world. Help him do so.

Sakura is here, with her kindness and strength and acceptance of him.

Team seven, then, these three people are his tethers.

  
But even they cannot keep him here. He has to go, has to travel and see the world and find what it has to offer, what is it that he has to protect, what is it that he can serve. He needs to feel the wind in his hair, smell the earth after rain, look at the shadows the trees cast on rocks, breathe.

  
He knew how to live, once. When he was a child, unburdened and hopeful and naive, during the long days of summer and the cold nights of winter, under the sakura blossoms in spring, and jumping in the puddles in autumn, he lived.

He has to learn it again.

  
Sakura and Kakashi see him off. He tells them that this is his redemption, his penance. Sakura asks to come with him, he doesn’t let her. She is warm and bright and blushing, she is hope and care, and he feels unworthy of the way she accepted him, unworthy of her affections, unsure of how to return them, wondering if he ever can. But he is not ungrateful for them, not unappreciative the way he once was, knows the worth of those precious emotions, knows the honour in those being bestowed upon him.

“Nothing... to do... with me?” She says, dejectedly.

He thinks of the times when he tried to kill her, tried to sever this bond, tried to erase this woman who brings out, from his cold heart, tenderness, and from his sneering lips, words of gratitude, because she is, above everything, so very gentle.

Oh, how Sasuke longs for gentleness.

Thinks of how he believed that if she did not exist, he will have no weakness, will have no one to tempt him away from his goal, no one who can offer him gentleness, anymore.

How foolish he was.

And the urge is immediate, and he acts on it. Brings his hand, his remaining hand, up in a gesture he’s only ever been on the other side of, touches his fingers to her forehead. Pauses. Breathes. She waits patiently.

“I’ll see you when I come back”, he says, because he cannot bring himself to say “next time”.

“And thank you.”

It's a soft feeling, and he feels lighter at the sight of her smile.

But it is not the same.


	3. Naruto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It itches under his skin.

If he thinks back on it, Naruto was the one from whom one would have expected him to feel it.

Sasuke is twenty, and he’s just returned to Konohagakure no Sato after six months. He has a detailed report for Kakashi, and more information than he has ever gathered before. Something is brewing, and Sasuke has no intention of letting it touch Konoha.

He arrives an hour past midnight, because he’s still a misanthrope at heart and will do anything to avoid people, and like he always does, visits Naruto’s apartment first, watches him sleep for a minute, drops his backpack and his cloak, and goes to see Kakashi. He had the urge, the first time he had returned, to visit Sakura as well, just to see her alive and breathing. He was about half way to her house when it occurred to him that it was utterly inappropriate for him to go to her like that, in the middle of the night, secretly. He had changed course immediately and met her the next day, in broad daylight, amongst people, like the gentleman he was brought up to be. Naruto had laughed at him for half an hour at that entire thought process, but Uchiha Sasuke has long since perfected the art of ignoring the Usuratonkachi when needed.

The people of Konoha treat him like he expects them to treat him. With fear, and disgust. Hatred, and resentment.  
He doesn’t care.

As he speeds towards the Hokage mansion, Sasuke soaks in the aura of peace in this village. Peacetime is prevalent now a days, even in Sunagakure no Sato where he rested for a day, weeks ago, at Gaara’s behest.

It itches under his skin.

He’s not exactly born in war, but the memories of the time before are shaky, and Sasuke feels like he has known nothing but war and blood and screams of the people who should have been laughing. He knowns the chi chi sound of the Chidori, the violet shade of his Susanoo, the brightness of Naruto’s Rasengan. When the first time he had accidentally looked in a mirror and seen his right eye in its original state, with onyx iris, he had felt detached from his body. He doesn’t exactly remember how he had reached the clearing where he’d camped for that night from the market, but he remembers the violent dreams that had jerked him awake that night, and the way his eye had remained red for a week afterwards.

He hasn’t had a peaceful sleep in years. He knows he will not have it for a long time hence.

He is not alone in that.

When he comes back to Naruto’s apartment, he hears screaming. His body immediately shoots forward like an arrow, eye turning red, sword at hand. Even before he bursts in the room, a kunai is already being thrown at him, which he dodges instinctively. Naruto stands by his bed, halfway to Sage mode, chakra flared around him, eyes almost unseeing, a bandaged hand fisted around the cloak Sasuke had left with his backpack.

Nightmare. It is not the first time.

Sasuke drops the sword, lets his chakra answer, meets him in the middle, hand placating in front of him, eye black.  
Naruto immediately stops, and they stand there for a few ceaseless seconds, suspended, measuring each other. Then his chakra withdraws, Naruto blinks rapidly and takes in the scene around him, waking up.

“Sas’ke” he says, blinks, and looks at the cloak he holds, then blinks back at him.

Sasuke breathes, and takes a few steps towards Naruto, hesitant. Naruto sags, and sits down on the bed, Sasuke seating beside him, reaching a tentative hand to his shoulder.

“Pain?” He asks.

Because Sasuke’s nightmares travel the depths of every darkness he’s known, seen, and done, but they begin with a single blood-soaked night, and end with a single blood-soaked hand reaching out to touch his forehead.  
Naruto’s begin and end with Jiraiya, but Sasuke, and Sakura, and he thinks Kakashi as well, perhaps Shikamaru too, know not to speak his name to Naruto unprompted on nights like this, until Naruto utters it first.

Naruto looks studiously at the cloak. “Yeah. Woke up. Smelled blood. Saw your bag. Cloak. There was blood. No you”  
Sasuke is used to short sentences after such episodes. He himself is the same, not that there is anyone who’d try to talk to him when he is camping by himself in whichever corner of the World he’d managed to desert himself to on that night.

“Yeah, I cut my leg last night. It’s all healed now.”  
Naruto nods once, lets go of the cloak.  
“I gave my report to Kakashi. I think I’m going stay for a week this time. It’s damn cold out there.” Naruto’s posture unwinds as Sasuke keeps talking, until he finally flops on the bed, scoots to the side. Sasuke’s futon is already by the bed, Naruto must have taken it out before he went to sleep, knowing Sasuke will come back tonight. Sasuke is tired and he is going to spread out the futon and go to sleep.

In a bit.

He sits quietly by Naruto’s head. They don’t talk about their nightmares. Sakura calls it unhealthy. But she doesn’t understand. There is so much muck and blood and broken bones and tattered souls in each of their repertoires, that the air will only get filthier and more suffocating if they voice them out loud.

Sometimes Sasuke wants to rage at the world. We were children, he wants to scream, it was unfair. He wants knock his fists against the armour of Fate or Universe or God or Hagorama, whoever it was that wrote such paths for them, and wants to drag them to the heavy depth of his abyss, to the burning inferno of Naruto’s anguish, to the frigid towers of Kakashi’s loneliness. Look at us, he wants to say, look at what remains after the battle is won.

But it is cowardly to blame someone else for your actions, Sasuke knows that. Lives by it, and yet cannot reconcile to the fact that Naruto and Kakashi and Sakura, who have never done anything even half as destructive as himself, would suffer the same darkness.

Peace is not a thing Sasuke has ever known. But he has hope, that some day he can be at peace, with himself, and with this wretched world, too.

“It’s Shikamaru’s birthday the Monday after tomorrow.” Naruto says quietly, "we're going out drinking". A few years ago, quietness and Naruto would not have been two words that Sasuke would have used in the same sentence.

War, he thinks.

Naruto is lying on his back looking at the ceiling. He knows Sasuke never stays more than how long he says he’d stay.  
“I leave on Saturday, Dobe. I don’t want to stay just to see you get drunk after one cup of sake and embarrass yourself. Again”  
Naruto scowls at him. “ That was one time, Teme! I’ve increased my tolerance since then.”  
Sasuke laughs, and the air is warm, and the cold of the war seems suddenly bearable. Naruto is smiling too, and the haunted look in his eyes has eased a little.

His body, like it always does when Naruto is concerned, moves on its own. His hand rises and he touches his cold fingers to Naruto’s warm forehead.

Next time. Apt words for this situation. But when he goes to speak them, the words catch on his throat, and he can’t, he can’t.  
“Sure, Usuratonkachi!” He says, and it’s bright, like Naruto is, and soothes both of their frayed nerves.

Naruto’s smile is radiant, and it’s also a little sad. Sasuke has a hunch that Naruto knows exactly what this gesture means to him.

It’s still not the same.


	4. Gaara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A need to tear flesh, to punish, overwhelms him.

Gaara is unexpected. His silent acceptance, and steady understanding, both are unexpected.

Sasuke is twenty one. He’s four and a half months into a five months long mission from Kakashi, having followed his last target from Ame to a shady tavern in the Wind country. He's dropped the unconscious bodies at the door of the local leader, and sent the information and his estimated time of return to Kakashi with his Hawk summon, and started on his way to Konoha. He's turning at a crossroad two days out of Suna when he finds a child by the side of the road, half dead, starved, with tattered clothes, curled on its side. Sasuke pauses. He reaches a tentative hand, checks the pulse, faint but steady. There’s blood and dirt caked on the back of the child, face muddy, breaths shallow. Sasuke contemplates the best course of action when the child opens two bleary eyes and reaches out a hand, limp on Sasuke’s wrist.

Sasuke had no plans of visiting Suna this time, lest it become a routine because he has visited Suna on every single mission since he was eighteen, but Konoha is still weeks out, and this child needs care immediately.

He gets to Suna in half a day.

The first time he came here, he was eighteen, A month into his first official mission from Kakashi. He had uncovered a plot for an attack on Suna, and in good faith, and with permission from Kakashi through one of his hawk summons, had come to Suna to inform the Fifth Kazekage of said plot. He had expected hostility, and even imprisonment, and while he was treated as rudely as he expected, only his documents from Kakashi kept him out of chains. That is until he was taken to meet Gaara, escorted by both Temari and Kankuro.

The Jinchuriki was not what he remembered. Gaara had been respectful, and had thanked Sasuke politely for his effort. Sasuke had been wary of accepting his offer of a roof and food, and tried to make his excuses, stating how there is no need for such courtesy.

“ I told you once”, Gaara had said, looking at Sasuke seriously, “we have the same eyes. I do not claim to know you now, neither do I know your burdens. But you and I are kindred spirits, Uchiha Sasuke, and I believe you when you say that you want to make a change, in the world and in yourself. I know very well how Naruto can inspire such change in someone. It is not a courtesy. I offer it to you as an ally.”

Somehow, after that, during each of his missions, Sasuke has found himself visiting Suna at least once, even when his mission was technically across the continent in Kumogakure. It's gotten to the point where even Kankuro doesn’t glare at him anymore, and Temari even gives him the occasional nod, when she's home and not in Konoha for business (i.e. Shikamaru).

Gaara meets him at the hospital, where Sasuke was pacing in the waiting room. Gaara is a good leader, better than Naruto, Sasuke thinks. Less headstrong, less direct, more diplomatic, more tactful.

Naruto should learn from him, Sasuke thinks.

Naruto will learn, in time, he amends

The healers come out of the room, with drawn faces and tired eyes, after three hours. But they don’t have an air of despair about them when they talk to their Kazekage and Sasuke.

Malnutrition. Starvation. Abuse.

A wound on the back that was relatively minor, but because the boy was so malnourished, it bled quite a bit and will take long to heal. “He is unconscious now, but hopefully he’ll wake up in a few days. He looks to be about Five.”

Sasuke feels conflicting emotions. Five. A child of five.

He remembers himself at five, sitting tucked under Itachi’s arm, with a warm bowl of soup, as his parents talk lovingly to each other.

Remembers seeing a photo at Sakura’s house, a five year old sakura dressed in a pretty kimono in front of her Hina-Matsuri dolls display.

Imagines a five year old Naruto, alone and neglected, but still fed and unbeaten. Imagines him by the side of the road, realises how utterly plausible it could have been.

The child is small on the hospital bed.

Something vicious, putrid, awakens inside his heart. A need to tear flesh, to punish, overwhelms him. Sasuke feels an anger so sharp, so corrosive, that it takes him a moment to realise that it originates from his knowledge that he was utterly incapable of preventing this, and will always be incapable of preventing such incidents in the future. Because humans are as often monsters as they are angels, and these monsters are almost impossible to trace, to eradicate, because they wear human skins and apologize politely when they bump into you on the road.

“There is a group of 12 bandits, comprising of missing-nins from multiple hidden villages. They’ve plundered, raped, and killed their way through the five nations.” Gaara says from next to him, when the Doctors have left. “They’re currently camped five days from Suna. They are all S-class criminals. They all have kill on sight classification from each of the five Kages.”

It’s wrong, Sasuke knows. It’s wrong to relate two distinct crimes to each other, to take out one’s anger on someone unrelated, however vile that person may be. It’s wrong to unleash this wrath he feels on some unsuspecting low-lives. Naruto would never do this. Sakura will disapprove. Kakashi... might agree.

But Sasuke isn’t Naruto, neither is Gaara.

“I know you are on a mission, but seeing that these are criminals recognised by Konoha as well, I was hoping that I could request your services. I assume it’d take you a day more than a week.”

Five days from Suna. Ten days just to go and return.

“ I will, of course, have to return to Suna to report.” Sasuke asks.

“Of course, as is protocol.” Gaara says.

“I will leave now.” Sasuke throws one look at the body on the bed. He doesn’t say it, but he thinks Gaara knows of his gratitude all the same.

Wonders how Gaara will purge his need for blood, since unlike Sasuke, he can't leave his duties to go eviscerate some missing-nins.

He returns within six days. Drops the forehead protectors on Gaara’s desk.

He had been kind, considering. Didn’t torture them. Disposed of them swiftly and without fuss. He blames it on the combined influence of Naruto and Sakura.

It didn’t make him feel any better about the boy. But it did quiet the buzz under his skin. At least he did something. At least he stopped some monsters from hurting some other innocent souls. It is not enough. But it is something.

He has to shower and wear clean clothes before he is permitted to see the boy. He’s sitting up in bed, frail and small. His hair is light brown, his skin is darker than Sasuke’s. He looks up as Sasuke enters, his eyes are a shade lighter than his hair. His face is wary, gaunt, bears the signs of more strain than a child has any need of knowing. There’s a scar across his face, kind of like Kakashi’s.

It starts to raise its head inside Sasuke’s heart again, but it’s easier to keep it under control this time, sated as it is with fresh blood and the illusion of justice.

“May I sit?” Sasuke doesn’t think he’s ever been this polite to another soul.

A nod.

Sasuke is completely out of his depth. How does one speak to children?

He notices a grey stuffed cat on the bedside.

“Did the nurse give you that?” he asks.

A shake of head. The boy immediately snatches the toy to his lap, holding it with both hands, afraid someone will take it away.

Sasuke wants to reach out, badly, but he knows there are triggers in such cases. Boundaries that must be set. Permissions must be explicitly asked or given. Sakura has drilled these things inside his and Naruto’s heads

“Where do you live?” Tactless, Sasuke berates himself. The boy looks up at him with wide eyes.

“Its alright, you don’t have to tell me...” Sasuke immediately backtracks.

“I don’t know.” His voice is thin, unused. He’s looking at his hands petting the stuffed cat.

“That’s alright.” He is botching this up. Sakura is better at these things.

“Do you live here?” comes the quiet question.

“No, I live in another village.” Funny, saying that. He doesn’t exactly live in Konoha, but it comes the closest to an actual answer, Sasuke thinks.

Silence. Sasuke stops himself from sighing and slowly gets up.

“Are you the one who found me?” the boy asks, eyes wide and fixed on Sasuke.

Sasuke nods.

“You have weird eyes.” The boy says, decidedly.

A laugh tears out of his throat, Sasuke can’t help it. “Yes, I do. I have only one arm, too. See?” He points to the empty sleeve where his arm used to be.

Moon. Sasuke doesn’t know if he ever stopped being a moon.

The boy stares. Then nods, firmly. Holds out his stuffed cat. “You can pet her. The yellow haired lady gave it to me.” Temari, then. He wonders if she looked at this boy, and saw Gaara. 

Sasuke pets the cat twice, respectfully. It is a big thing, to be allowed to touch a child’s possession, he knows. He didn’t let Itachi touch his Rabbit toy for months, almost bit Shisui's hand when he accidentally pushed it off the table.

Sasuke stays in Suna for four days, his longest stay till date. He visits the boy everyday. He's not the only one.

“What’s your name?”, He asks the kid on the second day. He looks up at Sasuke, brown eyes clear and hopeful.

“Haku” he says.

A memory of a bridge comes to him. Sharp needles, a mask, mirrors made of ice. A soft voice. Sharingan.

“Haku was kind”, Naruto had told him, after they'd buried him and Zabuza, “He didn’t want to kill us.”

“I know”, Sasuke had replied, because he knew how those needles didn’t hit where they should have, knew that it wasn't incompetence, but mercy. “He was gentle.”

He looks at this child now, with the scar and the brown hair and brown eyes, gently petting his stuffed cat.

He looks at how they are nothing alike, how this child will never know that his name has a legacy, how only a handful of people would hear the name and remember of long dark hair.

“It’s a good name.” He says. “My name is Sasuke.”

Haku smiles up at him.

“When will you be back?” Haku asks, on the day Sasuke is leaving. He’s still too weak, so he will stay at the hospital for a long time. But Gaara assures that he’ll find Haku a home.

Haku doesn’t have parents. He stayed with his uncle, who had reduced him to the condition Sasuke found him in, and then left him. Haku doesn’t give them a name, but the way Gaara's knuckles go white assures Sasuke that there is no need for a name in order for appropriate action to be taken.

“I don’t know.” Sasuke is honest, “but I won’t be away too long.”

Haku nods resolutely. Hugs him around the waist, grip weak, so small against Sasuke’s bigger build. Sasuke hugs him back, one armed and unpractised.

Haku grins at him, and turns back to his cats, there are three more now to join the grey one (now fondly named Mari, as suggested by Temari): a red one with a bright pink blush permanently sewn onto its face, named Gaa-chan (courtesy of Kankuro, both the cat and the name), a black one with a permanent scowl and red whiskers, named kuro-kuro (a retaliation from Gaara), and a white one with one brown and one red eye, named Kashi-chan (imagining Kakashi’s face when he realises that he has a stuffed cat named after him gives Sasuke simple joy). Sasuke softly closes the door.

“You are good with children” Gaara says. It’s a testament to Sasuke’s nerve that he doesn’t flinch, and a testament to how badly he’s let down his guard that he didn’t even sense Gaara’s chakra.

Sasuke snorts. “I am terrified of children and children are terrified of me. That kid is an exception. “

Gaara hums as they walk towards the village gate. “He will be cared for, here. I assume you don’t want to take him to Konoha.”

The thing is, Sasuke knows, he knows that it is unfair to Kakashi. He knows things have changed. He knows that things are better.

But he remembers himself, alone in a large house, people staring at him and whispering behind his back, shunning him for things beyond his control, being cold on a winter night.

He remembers Naruto, bright and eager for a shred of affection, and how the village tried its best to snuff out his flame.

He knows that Kakashi will never let something like that happen again.

But yet, Sasuke can never willingly bring an orphan to live in Konohagakure no Sato.

“You assume correctly.” He tells Gaara.

“Very well.” Gaara agrees. There’s a comfortable silence as they walk, till Gaara speaks again.

“There will be a feast in a three days, in honour of spring. I would like it if you stayed till then.”

This is the first time Gaara has asked this. And Sasuke knows, from the way they’ve grown into a kindred friendship, that this will not be the last.

“I...” Sasuke doesn’t know how he wants to phrase his declination, but Gaara saves him.

“That’s alright. There’s always next time.”

Sasuke breathes a sigh of relief. They are at the gate now.

“But Sasuke,” Gaara puts a hand on his shoulder, face soft, “ please remember that you are always welcome here.”

There is something potent in that statement, something healing. An acceptance, a nod of respect, acknowledgement. It’s proud, the way Gaara offers his friendship, and heart-breaking, Sasuke thinks, the way his heart readily accepts it, like a parched man accepts water.

Kind, he thinks, Gaara is kind.

He doesn’t know if he’s crossing a boundary, but the emotion is overwhelming at the acceptance from this person, who knows what it is to succumb to darkness and then to come back from it, and Sasuke raises his hand, touches his fingers to Gaara’s forehead, right next to his tattoo.

He doesn’t expect to be able to say the words. And, in all the ways Gaara is unexpected, this is not one of them.

“I will remember that, Kazekage Sama.”

Gaara looks a little taken aback, but then there is a slight smile on his face, and he stands there as Sasuke leaves Suna, a resolute kinship taking shape between them.

It is not the same.

But this time Sasuke doesn’t expect it to be.


	5. Kakashi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We can only make the choices that we have, as ourselves and ourselves alone, he’d thought.

He doesn’t know how Kakshi knows of the gesture. Maybe from Naruto, maybe from Itachi, but most probably he deduced and pieced together the truth himself.

Sasuke is twenty two. Tonight is a bad night. He is giving a briefing to Kakashi after his latest mission (three months). He is surprisingly here during polite hours this time, it’s barely six. He is wary, filthy, tired, hasn’t slept for five days, and has absolutely no intention of discussing anything with anyone. Tomorrow he wants to sleep for hours and then spar with Naruto, if he doesn’t have Hokage-training, and go beg Sakura to make him Oyakodon, if she doesn’t have shifts at the hospital.

Tonight he wants to stay in his house, look at the ceiling, and relive some very unhealthy, very awful memories.

But Kakashi is now reading his report, which he never does, making notes, which he never does, and asking questions, which he never does. Sasuke is required to answer.

Sometimes he thinks he should have stayed as a missing-nin.

When he first returned to Konoha, after a year of traveling (soul searching, Sakura says. Vacation, Naruto jokes. Accidental spy-work, Kakshi corrects), he had just turned eighteen. He had, despite his intentions, learned some much interesting information and promptly conveyed them to Kakashi, who had, upon seeing how Sasuke had gathered more information through idle traveling than most of his highly trained Jōnin teams, immediately employed him as an information gatherer, given him some documents, some clearance, and sent him on his merry way on a four months (estimated) long mission to Kirigakure. Sakura had protested earnestly, Naruto had protested vehemently, Shikamaru had protested suspiciously, but Sasuke had been utterly relieved. He was grateful that Kakashi found the one way in which he could still walk the same path as Itachi, could still help Naruto, still protect his bonds, but didn’t have to stay in Konoha.

Now, Sasuke waits patiently, as Kakashi finishes reading his report. Finally, after what seems like an hour but probably is twenty minutes, Kakashi puts down the report and nods once. It’s got 160 pages, Kakashi is an exceptionally fast reader. Reading those erotic novels for all his life must have helped. (Naruto had once accused Kakashi of this. The second hand accounts, that both Shikamaru and Sakura had gleefully and warily given Sasuke, both of them completely unprompted, of the events that followed said accusation, encourage him now to keep his thoughts to himself in the interest of self preservation.)

“Alright.” Kakashi says to Sasuke and to Shikamaru, apparently, who has just entered the room in his jōnin uniform, with some documents, presumably in need of the Hokage's signatures. It always struck Sasuke that Kakashi asks him to report to him personally, whether it was because he didn’t trust Sasuke with anyone else or didn’t trust anyone else with Sasuke, he doesn’t know. He’s not sure which one he prefers. “Sasuke and I are going to take a walk. Shikamaru, you and Shizune can manage for a while.”

“ What do you mean “manage”? I’m not your assistant! I’m a jōnin! Damn it get back here...”

Before Sasuke could react to this bizarre proclamation, or the bizarre course of events, or the utterly justified rant from Shikamaru, Kakashi has already dragged him (out the window of the study, a necessary detail) halfway to wherever it is they are going to engage in this bizarre walk.

Sasuke wisely keeps his mouth shut, and follows Kakashi. They hide from the people, dodge Shinobis left, right, and centre, twice disguise themselves, till they finally end up in the clearing at the memorial ground. The stones displaying the names of the fallen in the Shinobi wars stand in tragic pride, and beside them, a little removed, stands the stone displaying the names of those killed in the Uchiha massacre.

About a year ago, Kakashi had told him that he had decided that such a monument should be erected in Konoha. The Uchiha massacre had finally become part of the history textbooks.

Danzo had been declared a convicted mastermind behind a genocide.

Kakashi had asked if it would be better to use the lands of the Uchiha for this. Sasuke hadn’t agreed, couldn’t agree. The house smells of blood, but it also smells of his mother’s cooking, his father’s strength, Shisui’s laughter.

Itachi.

He couldn’t let it become a gravesite, despite the fact that that is exactly what it was. He could hardly live there, and since the property had been reinstated to him, he planned to do something with it. Let it live, breathe. Let the memories of his clan be something other than death, let the legacy of the Uchiha name be anything other than blood.

He thinks of Haku.

An orphanage. He doesn’t trust Konoha with orphans. He will never trust Konoha with orphans. But perhaps in time, he can trust Kakashi with them. After all, Kakashi has cared for both him and Naruto, has been a orphan himself. Sasuke is yet to tell anyone of this dream.

Kakashi hadn’t pressed. Just asked his permission to place a stone on the memorial ground.

It’s funny, this, being the last of his clan. He doesn’t know if Father or Mother would have wanted their names displayed thus. He can’t guess if Izumi would have wanted such a reminder of Itachi’s gravest deed. He can’t be sure whether Shisui should also be placed on it, despite not having died that night. He is the threshold to his clan, the remnant, a relic and a phoenix both in one. And yet, he doesn’t know, can’t guess, can’t be sure of what even one of them would have wanted.

We can only make the choices that we have, as ourselves and ourselves alone, he’d thought.

He gave Kakashi permission. Because he wanted Konoha to look at what they’ve done, to acknowledge it, to learn from it. But most importantly, to never let it happen again. There should never be another Uchiha Itachi. There should never be another Uchiha Sasuke.

Sasuke wasn’t here for the ceremony. He was near Amegakure, two months into a five months mission, when the stone was placed here. Kakashi did not ask if he wanted to be there. The mission was ready for him the day after Sasuke had given him permission.

It’s made of grey stone. The writing is in black. There is a street lamp nearby, but not bright enough for him to read the names. He doesn’t need light to read the names. He doesn’t need to read the names to know.

Kakashi doesn’t say anything. When Sasuke turns to him, he sees the Rokdaime standing in front of the stone containing Obito's name. He doesn’t say anything either.

“Sasuke.” Kakashi calls him sometime later. It must have been hours. The darkness is much thicker, the shadows long. Sasuke gets up from where he’d been sitting in front if the Uchiha stone, and walks to where Kakashi was standing. It’s the stone for the Fourth Shinobi War. Sasuke spots names after names. Yamanaka. Nara. Hyuuga Neji.

At the centre, Jiraiya.

So not just the Shinobi war, then.

And just below him, Uchiha Itachi.

Something breaks in him, like a delicate glass figurine under the impatient hands of a child, like reinforced steel breaking against a tumultuous flood, like bones under his Chidori.

He doesn’t realise that he is crying, doesn’t turn himself away from Kakashi, doesn’t wipe his eyes, doesn't put up the stoic Uchiha mask.

He stands there, in front of the stone where his brother's name is etched, inside a village that had robbed him of everything and yet is the only place that has kept him tethered for most of his life, and he cries. The tears are purifying, he thinks, piled up for years and years. Even when he cried after Itachi was gone, when he cried when Naruto and he had thought they died, he hadn’t truly let himself grieve. And there is so much for him to grieve.

Kakashi doesn’t offer comfort. Doesn’t offer support. He stands there, and grieves his own dead, silently, separately.

Sasuke doesn’t know how long he cries. Sometime later, he’s sitting in front of it, Kakashi is sitting beside him, when the tears stop, and grief turns to remembrance. He remembers the way his mother pulled his ear when he didn’t put his toys away, the way his father praised Itachi to him and him to Itachi and was proud of them both, The soft voice of his mother as she sang him to sleep, the formidable and kind presence of his father. Izumi, smiling at him kindly. Shisui, sneaking him candies, tickling him before dinner, his open, boisterous laugh.

And Itachi. Itachi, expertly tying his hair in a braid before going to sleep, ruffling Sasuke’s hair to annoy him, carrying Sasuke on his back, pouting when Sasuke and Shisui imitated him. Itachi, bringing his fingers to Sasuke’s forehead, poking it. “Forgive me, Sasuke, next time.”

“I will love you forever.”

Loving them. Resenting them. Hating them. And then loving them nonetheless.

He doesn’t have enough memories, he realises. And he wouldn’t ask, he wouldn’t be this vulnerable, this fragile in front of any one else. But this is Kakashi, who’s known Itachi in a way Sasuke never could. Kakashi who loved Obito, Kakashi who gave his signature jutsu to Sasuke without asking, Kakashi who accepted an eye from a brother and never forgot it. This is Kakashi of the Sharingan, and he is not an Uchiha, but he is the closest to being one, Sasuke thinks.

“Tell me about him.” He asks, and he searches for vulnerability inside himself, for shame. There is none. There is resolution, and eagerness.

Kakashi tell him.

They sit there for hours, and still Kakashi has so many tales left. Next time, Sasuke thinks.

They part at the gate. Kakashi looks at him, eye shadowed and thinking, and slowly, ever so slowly reaches out a hand, hesitant, as if he doesn’t know if he is trespassing. Sasuke doesn’t know it either, but he allows it, feels something settle inside him when the fingers touch his forehead.

“Get some sleep tonight.” Kakashi says. Sasuke doesn’t know if he doesn’t know the words, or doesn’t say them intentionally. Either way, it is a kindness, and Sasuke feels protected in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. It’s laughable, really. He doesn’t need any protection, of the two of them Sasuke in by far the stronger one, and Kakashi knows it very well. And yet, it eases the little boy still alive inside Sasuke, somewhere.

It is still not the same.

But it has come the closest, Sasuke thinks.


	6. Haku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I promise.” Sasuke says. And he promises, to Haku, and to himself, too.

Sasuke is twenty three. He’s been in Suna for three days, and is leaving today. Currently, he’s sitting on a bench in front of the housing where Haku lives. Sasuke has been graciously permitted by Haku to enter his rooms, and Sasuke has thoroughly examined the condition of every single thing in there. Suna under Gaara is not Konoha under Sarutobi. Suna is kind to Haku, and all others like him.

Last year, Naruto and Sakura had visited Suna, on the occasion of Temari's and Shikamaru's wedding. Given that Temari would live in Konoha after marriage, Shikamaru had deemed it fair that they hold the ceremony in Suna. Sasuke was asked to attend by the happy couple, Naruto, Sakura, Gaara, and surprisingly, Kankuro. He attended because a few officials from Otogakure had also attended, and at that time Sasuke was in the process of extracting information from and on them. However, only Kakashi knew of it, and they had both wisely kept quiet on this matter.

During that visit, Naruto and Sakura had met Haku. They’d both looked at Sasuke upon learning his name. Sakura’s eyes had been a little sad, face a little puzzled, and she had squeezed Sasuke’s hands once in passing. Naruto’s eyes had been alight with an onslaught of memories, and he had resolutely stuck to Sasuke for the reminder of the afternoon.

Needless to say, they had both taken a liking to Haku. Neither had asked why Sasuke hadn’t taken him to Konoha, neither needed to. Kashi-chan had been a great hit, sakura promptly taking a picture to show Kakashi later. Sasuke had vowed to be as far away from Konoha at that particular moment as possible. He had escaped most of the fun and most of the fall out following the fun, but he had had to redo his already spotless report thrice when he next returned to Konoha. Haku had also received a pink cat with a terrifying expression name Sakusaku (Naruto was punched within an inch of his life while Sasuke and Shikamaru wisely watched from a safe distance), and an idiotic looking cat in an alarming shade of orange called Na-chan ( Naruto had whined for three days, but no one paid any mind to it).

Sasuke has carefully developed a proposal, weighing every pro and con, on the orphanage. He is going to take it up with his team when he returns to Konoha next month.

A black cat, with purple eyes, walks in front of him and winds itself through Sasuke’s legs. Sasuke dutifully picks him up and deposits him to Haku's waiting lap.

This one was a stray cat Haku had picked up sometime last month, according to Gaara. His name is Sasu-kun and Haku named him all by himself.

“Do you really have to go?” Haku asks, petting the cat, sounding small and timid all of a sudden. Sasuke doesn’t like leaving him, but it is a necessary evil.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

Haku nods once. “I wanted to go to the festival with you and light lanterns.”

“We can do that during the Spring festival too.”

Haku looks at him with wide eyes.

The gesture is familiar, and instinctive. Sasuke raises his hand, touches his fingers to Haku’s forehead.

“Forgive me, Haku, next time.”

Haku's eyes go wider, before his whole face lights up with hope.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Sasuke says. And he promises, to Haku, and to himself, too.

Haku grins up at him, and something loosens in Sasuke’s chest. This, he thinks later as he leaps from tree to tree, this must be the beginning of peace.

The words had come easily to his lips, without pain and without bitterness, with a touch of melancholy. The feeling is nowhere near the same. But it cannot be, and it shouldn’t be. Sasuke knows that now. To expect someone to invoke the same feelings in him that Itachi did would be unfair to both Itachi and that person. Sasuke had only one brother. He will always have only one brother. Itachi was his home, and that home is gone. He has mourned it. He hasn’t let it go, because it’s burned into his marrow, but he no longer clings to it.

Because Naruto once told him that wherever someone is thinking of you, is your home. For Sasuke, home is where Sakura returns from long shifts in the hospital, and still stubbornly researches prosthetic arms in case someday Sasuke decides that he has paid enough penance, despite knowing that that day will never come. Home is where Kakashi keeps a file in his drawer, containing an elaborate plan of the orphanage (Sasuke peeped once out of curiosity, and he is sure that Kakashi knows that he’s peeped) that Sasuke wants to turn the Uchiha compound into but hasn’t yet mentioned to anyone. Home is with Gaara too, who keeps a room in the village ready for him at all times, and Haku, who named his cat after Sasuke. Home is with Naruto, who spars with him and laughs with him, who believes in him with an unflinching ferocity and never, ever, lets Sasuke forget that they’re going to change the world together.

None of them is Mother, or Father, or Shisui.

None of them is Itachi. But that’s alright, now.

Now, he can create memories of his own, emotions of his own attached to this gesture, to being the one offering protection, offering safety, offering love, forever.

To making a promise.

And to keeping it.


End file.
